The Book Lovers

by Victoria Connelly

  ‘That was – that was – awful!’ Callie said, tears of laughter streaming down her face.

  ‘Poor Delilah!’ Sam said.

  ‘Poor Winston!’ Callie said. ‘He has to live with that.’

  ‘If, indeed, it was Delilah.’

  ‘You think it might have been Winston?’ Callie asked, more tears coursing down her face.

  Sam shook his head. ‘It was definitely the dog. At least I think it was.’

  Callie mopped her eyes with a tissue and tried to calm herself down. ‘This isn’t quite what I was expecting tonight,’ she said.

  ‘How does it compare to your old London book club?’ Sam said, laughing again.

  ‘Oh, much more entertaining!’

  ‘Then at least we’ve achieved something,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry you’ve had a wasted trip into town.’

  ‘Are you kidding?’ Callie said. ‘I’ve had a brilliant time! I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.’

  Sam grinned. ‘Maybe they’ll be more people next time,’ he said.

  ‘Not if word gets around about Winston’s dog.’

  They stood there in silence for a moment.

  ‘Listen,’ Sam said, ‘you probably want to get home, but I was wondering–’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Well, I’d be happy to make you another cup of tea and we could talk some more.’

  ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I’d like that.’

  She followed him back into the shop and they saw a dazed-looking Winston getting up from the sofa.

  ‘What time is it?’ he asked, rubbing a hand over his line-creased face.

  ‘Just gone eight,’ Sam told him.

  ‘Did I miss anything?’ he asked, giving Delilah a little nudge with the toe of his boot.

  ‘Not really,’ Sam said.

  ‘I hope this here dog didn’t disturb you,’ Winston said as Delilah got to her feet at last. ‘She has a terrible habit,’ he continued and Callie didn’t dare catch Sam’s eye for fear of laughing. ‘Yes, she’s a real snorer.’

  ‘Indeed,’ Sam said. ‘We heard.’

  Winston shook his head. ‘My dear old gal, aren’t you?’ He bent to pat the dog’s head and then waved a hand. ‘Well, cheerio,’ he said.

  ‘Hope we’ll see you next time,’ Sam said, as he and Callie followed him to the front door of the shop.

  ‘If you make sure that Antonia Jessop’s here with her cakes, I’ll be sure to turn up,’ he said.

  ‘That’s a deal,’ Sam said, opening the door to the tinkle of the bell and closing it behind them.

  ‘There are some pretty special people here in Castle Clare,’ Callie said as Sam turned back into the room.

  ‘Winston’s a bit special,’ he told Callie. ‘He’s lived in Castle Clare all his life. As have most of the people round here. He lives in a tiny terrace and suffered some dreadful pension scandal which left him high and dry.’

  ‘Oh, no,’ Callie said.

  ‘He gets by,’ Sam said. ‘His son and daughter make sure he’s okay and his neighbours look after him too. That’s one of the great things about living in a place like this – nobody lets you be lonely or go without. We all keep our eyes open for each other. Towns like Castle Clare are like an extended family.’

  ‘That’s really nice,’ Callie said and Sam nodded.

  ‘I’ll make us some more tea,’ he said.

  Callie followed him into the back room and let her eyes glide over the bookshelves there whilst she waited.

  ‘Oh, you’ve got a copy of Country Diary of an Edwardian Lady,’ she said. ‘I love this book!’

  ‘You have a copy?’ Sam said, his head popping out of the kitchen where the kettle was now boiling.

  ‘I used to but I think I lent it to someone who didn’t return it.’

  ‘Ah,’ Sam said. ‘That’s a cardinal sin as far as I’m concerned.’

  ‘With me too,’ Callie said.

  ‘I hope you excommunicated them,’ he said in all seriousness, returning to the tea things.

  ‘I got a court injunction on her,’ Callie said. ‘She was prohibited from coming within half a mile of my books.’

  Sam laughed and, a moment later, walked back into the room with the tea and they sat down on the sofa together.

  ‘I loved that book,’ Callie said. ‘Edith Holden’s writing was so vivid and real, and her watercolours were so exquisite.’

  ‘I love how she punctuated her own prose with the poetry of others,’ Sam said.

  ‘Me too,’ Callie said and she got up from the sofa and took the book from the shelf. ‘I’d forgotten how much I loved this book. I’m going to have to buy it from you.’

  ‘Then it’s yours. It’s my gift to you.’

  ‘Oh, but you’ve already given me a book. You must let me pay.’

  ‘No, no,’ he said. ‘See it as a welcome to Suffolk gift.’

  ‘Well, that’s very kind of you.’ She hugged the book to her like a lost friend and then opened it up to a random page, taking in a glorious painting. ‘Now, where is it?’ she said, flipping through the pages until she reached October. ‘There!’ She sat down next to Sam again and showed him the painting of the red toadstools.

  ‘Fly agaric,’ he said. ‘Stunning but horribly poisonous.’

  ‘Yes,’ Callie said, remembering Leo’s words about them. ‘I saw some out on a walk the other day and I thought of this picture.’ Her fingers hovered over it now. ‘It’s over a hundred years since she painted this, but I was carrying it in my mind just the other day. Isn’t that wonderful?’

  ‘A good book lives forever,’ he said.

  ‘I sometimes think it’s easier to love a book more than a person, don’t you think?’ she said. ‘A book doesn’t change – it remains constant and perfect no matter how many times you read it.’

  Sam looked at her intently. ‘Somebody must have hurt you really badly to make you say that.’

  Callie closed her eyes. ‘I shouldn’t have said that.’

  ‘But you obviously needed to,’ Sam said gently. ‘Who was it?’ he asked. ‘Who was it that wasn’t constant and perfect in your life? Was it your husband?’

  Callie took a deep breath. ‘Yes,’ she whispered.

  Sam nodded. ‘I’m very sorry to hear that,’ he said.

  ‘But it’s all over and done with now,’ she said. ‘Apart from every time I think of him.’ She gave a wry smile.

  ‘Ah, yes. Our memories are fickle friends and will betray us at a moment’s notice, won’t they?’ He looked at her. ‘I told you I recently got divorced, didn’t I?’

  ‘Yes.’ she said. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Her name was Emma and we’d been married for six years and I thought we were happy. We had our ups and downs like any couple, but we never had any real worries.’ He raked a hand through his dark hair. ‘I just think she’s one of these people who get bored. Perhaps she wanted some excitement, I really don’t know.’

  ‘So, what happened?’ Callie asked.

  ‘Well, I was doing a house clearance for a fellow called Terence. He’s a banker from London and he’d just inherited this amazing old manor house near Long Melford. Stunning place. Timber framed, inglenook fireplaces, walled garden – the works. But, most importantly, quite a good library. I worked with Terence over the next few months, finding buyers for his books and advising him on the conservation of others he wanted to keep. It was a fantastic time. Customers like him don’t come along very often and I revelled in every minute I spent at that place. Anyway, there was one day when I was due to meet him, but I’d just caught a horrible cold. I’d taken one of his old atlases into London to one of my collectors there, but he hadn’t wanted it. I wanted to return it to Terence straight away and Emma was going to drive by the manor on her way to work so she took the atlas for me. I thought nothing of it and, when I got better, I went over there myself.’

  Callie swallowed hard, dreading what he was about to tell her and yet needing to know too.

&nbs
p; ‘I think it must have been about a week later,’ Sam continued, ‘and I noticed the change in him. He was suddenly very cagey and couldn’t look me in the eye and made all sorts of excuses to wrap up the work I was doing. I had this horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach and I just knew.’

  ‘Oh, Sam,’ Callie said.

  ‘I cursed that atlas over the next few weeks but, if it hadn’t been the atlas, something else would have caused us to part, I’m sure of that now.’

  ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘No need to be,’ he said. ‘Emma and I should never have happened. You know, she married an antiquarian and then complained that I was bookish?’

  Callie’s eyebrows rose in bewilderment. ‘Really?’ A giggle escaped her and Sam joined in.

  ‘Isn’t that the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever heard?’ Sam said.

  ‘It’s up there, I’ll give you that.’

  Sam laughed. She liked his laugh, but she could see by the look in his eyes that there was still a lot of pain behind it and that he was most certainly putting on a brave face.

  When the shop bell sounded, they exchanged looks.

  ‘Did Winston forget something?’ Callie asked.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Sam said, looking around as he got up from the sofa.

  Callie watched as he walked through to the front room of the shop and then she heard a female voice.

  ‘Hello, Sam.’

  ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked.

  Callie sat forward on the sofa, wondering who the mysterious woman was.

  ‘That’s a nice greeting,’ the woman said, her voice heavy with sarcasm.

  ‘And how do you expect me to greet you after you sent your maniac brother round here to steal my books?’

  Callie gasped. Who on earth would steal Sam’s books?

  ‘That’s unfair!’ the woman cried.

  ‘How the hell is that unfair?’ Sam said. ‘He punched me in the gut and had Grandpa Joe on the floor. Did he tell you that – your idiot brother?’

  ‘Don’t call him that,’ the woman said. ‘He was doing what he thought was right.’

  ‘Oh, yes. Like that evening he punched that guy in the pub? You can always count on Aidan Jones to do the right thing.’

  Callie was beside herself now, desperate to know who it was Sam was speaking to. It couldn’t be his ex-wife, could it? Would she get her brother to steal Sam’s books? The idea seemed preposterous.

  ‘Well, it was you who stole my book!’

  ‘Emma, for the last time, I didn’t steal your book.’

  Callie’s eyes widened. It was Emma, she thought, and how hard it was for Callie to remain in the back room and not sneak through to get a glimpse of the ex-wife Sam had just been telling her about.

  ‘Then where is it?’ Emma demanded, her voice rising.

  ‘How should I know where it is?’ Sam said. ‘Maybe Terence took it.’

  ‘Oh, yes – you’d just love to blame him for everything, wouldn’t you? But he’s got more important things to think about than your old books.’

  Callie tried not to eavesdrop, she really did, but it was impossible not to hear what they were saying because both their voices were raised.

  ‘A distraction,’ she whispered to herself. ‘I need a distraction.’

  Well, what better place to find a distraction for a book lover than a bookshop, she thought, getting up from the sofa and letting her eyes rove across the titles on display. Something, anything, to take her mind off what was happening in the next room because it was none of her business and she really should do her best not to listen.

  Her eyes scanned the shelves of the gardening books. Yes, it would be a good idea to lose herself in a few inspirational gardens for a while. She might even pick up a few ideas for her own cottage garden. Now, to choose a book. There was The English Cottage Garden which seemed like a pretty sensible one to begin with; The Victorian Kitchen Garden which sounded wonderful too but the one that caught Callie’s eye was the amusingly titled Eat Your Own Weight in Veg. If she could just reach it. The library steps were in the next room and the tempting tome was just above fingertip level even when Callie was standing on tiptoes.

  Cursing her lack of height, Callie reached up again, stretching as far as she could until she had the thick spine safely clutched. Or, she thought she had it safely clutched until it slipped out of her hand as the heels of her feet came back down to earth. In one of those moments that seemed to both speed up and slow down at the same time, Callie watched in alarm as the book fell to the floor with a sickeningly loud thud.

  Her shoulders hunched up and her eyes squeezed themselves shut. The voices in the next room had definitely stopped. Had they heard her?

  ‘What was that?’ Emma asked. ‘Is somebody back there?’

  They had heard her.

  ‘I think it’s time for you to leave, Emma.’

  ‘Are you hiding something from me?’

  ‘I’m not hiding anything,’ Sam said.

  The voices were getting closer. They were getting closer.

  Callie quickly picked the book up from the floor and was just dusting it down when a slender woman with short auburn hair entered the room. Her face was pretty and her features were as dainty as a pixie, but the look she directed at Callie was anything but pretty and her eyes, although beautiful, had a slightly wild light in them.

  Sam was now standing behind her.

  ‘You certainly didn’t waste any time,’ Emma said, turning to him. ‘How long’s this been going on?’

  ‘There is nothing going on,’ Sam said. ‘Not that it would be any of your business even if there was.’

  ‘Got somebody else to dust your books already?’ she said with a laugh that sounded like a Disney villainess’. She stared at Callie one last time and then turned and left.

  ‘This isn’t over, Sam,’ Callie heard Emma say as the bell sounded.

  ‘Oh, it’s over,’ Sam said, his voice full of fury as he followed her out of the room and slammed the shop door shut.

  Callie wondered if she should leave there and then or if Sam would want to talk about what had just happened. Indecision flowed through her and, just as she was picking up her satchel, Sam walked into the room. His colouring was higher than normal and he looked utterly exhausted, as if he’d just run to the coast and back.

  ‘Are you okay?’ she asked gently.

  ‘I’m sorry you had to witness that,’ he said in a low voice and she watched as he gathered up the mugs and took them through to the kitchen where he proceeded to clatter about noisily. Callie stood clueless for a moment, unsure of what she should do or say and, when Sam didn’t say anything, she decided that the evening had come to an abrupt end.

  ‘Listen, I’d better get going,’ she said.

  Sam looked up briefly from the sink and nodded. ‘Yes,’ he said, and that was it.

  Callie hovered, desperate to say or do something to reach out to him, but she could see that the barriers were up and so she said and did nothing.

  Leaving the bookshop and crossing the road, she walked through to Market Square where she’d parked her car. She barely registered the dark country roads as she drove home. Usually, she would have revelled in the fact that it was so all-consumingly dark. She might even have pulled up in a lay-by, unwound her window and sat with the engine off, drinking in the silence, the darkness and the brilliance of the stars in the sky. But not now. She was going straight home where she would drink a big round glass of wine, eat the family-sized packet of crisps that she’d hidden from herself under the stairs and then go straight to bed.

  But the evening of indulgence was destined not to be because, as her cottage came into sight, she saw a car was parked outside it. A car she instantly recognised.

  ‘Piers,’ she said to herself.

  What on earth was he doing there?

  Chapter 14

  Callie parked her car behind her soon-to-be ex-husband’s. The evening had been eventful enou
gh without Piers turning up. What was this, she thought – the night of the exes?

  ‘Where the hell have you been?’ Piers demanded as soon as she opened her car door, an angry blast of Beethoven coming from his own car.

  ‘What business is it of yours?’ she said. ‘I don’t owe you an explanation.’

  ‘I was worried about you.’

  ‘Oh, really?’ Callie said. ‘Piers, you barely noticed me when I shared a house with you as your wife, but you expect me to believe you’re worrying about me now that we’re getting divorced?’

  ‘Well, it’s true.’

  ‘What are you doing here?’ She opened her satchel and fished inside for her key.

  ‘Still using that god-awful bag?’ he said.

  ‘You didn’t answer my question,’ she said as she walked up the garden path and opened her front door, turning around to block him from entering.

  ‘Aren’t you going to invite me in?’

  She gave him a quizzical look. ‘Are you joking?’

  ‘But I’ve driven all this way, Callie.’

  ‘And you’ll just have to drive all the way back.’

  ‘Come on,’ he said with one of his disarming smiles that had, once upon a time, been able to melt her. ‘Don’t be like that. I just want to see how you are.’

  ‘Couldn’t you have rung?’

  ‘Where’s the fun in that?’ he said. ‘I wanted to see you, Callie. I needed to see you.’

  She stared at him, wondering what on earth she had done in a previous life to deserve this.

  ‘I suppose you could come in, but just for a few minutes, okay?’ she said reluctantly.

  Piers walked into the living room and instantly hit his head on a low beam.

  ‘Holy cow!’ he exclaimed. ‘You could have warned me!’

  ‘What did you expect walking into an old country cottage?’

  He rubbed his head, looking sorry for himself and then he turned around, taking in his surroundings.

  ‘God this place is pokey,’ he said.

  ‘It suits me just fine,’ Callie said.

  ‘Does it? Does it really?’ he said in astonishment.

  ‘Yes,’ Callie said, watching anxiously as he stalked about the room, poking his head into the kitchen, examining her bookshelves and looking up the chimney.